The morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the estate, casting golden patterns on the marble floor. Elena stood before a mirror in the walk-in wardrobe, adjusting the black blazer Camille had lent her.
"I look like I'm trying too hard," she murmured, tugging at the sleeve.
From the doorway, Lucien leaned in with a smirk. "You look like someone who's about to change the direction of an empire."
Elena turned to face him. "You're not just saying that?"
"I don't say things I don't mean," Lucien replied, crossing the room to adjust the gold pin on her lapel—a tiny emblem of the Blake family crest. "You've earned your place. Don't forget that."
Her breath hitched slightly. "I've never done anything like this before."
Lucien tilted her chin up gently. "You've faced worse. Boardrooms are a breeze compared to the battlefield you just survived."
His words settled something inside her.
Maybe she could do this.
The conference room at the heart of Blake Industries was a glass-walled arena. The board of directors sat in a semicircle, men and women dressed in custom suits and guarded expressions. Their eyes shifted as Elena walked in beside Lucien.
Some recognized her as the woman from the headlines.
Others still saw her as "the unwanted wife."
She sat beside Lucien, spine straight, hands resting on a black leather folder filled with the research she'd spent the last two nights compiling with Camille.
Lucien opened the meeting with practiced authority. "We're here to present a new initiative—Project Horizon. It's a collaboration between our internal intelligence team and the legal audit department. Elena will be leading the review."
A quiet murmur passed through the room. One older board member cleared his throat.
"With all due respect, Mr. Blake," he said, "your wife has no prior executive experience."
Lucien didn't flinch. "She has experience dealing with liars and threats from within. She exposed Vincent Arcland without a single leak. That's more than most of you can claim."
Elena took a breath. Her fingers tightened on the folder.
"May I speak?" she asked, her voice calm but clear.
All eyes turned to her.
"I understand your reservations. I've made mistakes. I kept quiet when I should've spoken, and I avoided power because I thought I wasn't worthy of it. But those mistakes won't happen again."
She opened the folder, revealing reports cross-referenced with financial irregularities Vincent had buried in subsidiaries.
"Vincent Arcland didn't act alone," she said. "These records prove he had silent enablers, some of them within companies we still hold shares in."
A tense silence followed.
Then Camille, seated behind Elena as part of the security detail, stood and handed out sealed documents. "You'll want to review those tonight."
Lucien leaned forward. "Let me be clear. Elena isn't asking for your approval. She's offering you a chance to stay ahead. Or get left behind."
The weight in his voice silenced the murmurs.
Elena looked at the board members again. She saw wariness in their eyes—but also something else.
Respect.
Back at the estate, Elena kicked off her heels and flopped onto the living room couch, utterly exhausted. Camille tossed her a bottle of water and grinned.
"Well, look at you. From trophy wife to legal assassin in forty-eight hours."
Elena groaned. "Please don't call me that."
"I mean it as a compliment," Camille laughed. "You were brilliant."
Elena smiled, despite herself. "I still feel like I'm pretending."
"Imposter syndrome is part of the package. Get used to it." Camille took a sip of her own drink. "But here's the real question—how are things with Lucien?"
Elena went quiet, her smile dimming just slightly. "Better. Different. There's… peace between us. But also distance. Like we're rebuilding from rubble."
"That's not a bad thing," Camille said. "Rubble means there was once something worth building."
Elena thought of Lucien's touch on her shoulder that morning, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her now. There was something warmer in him. Something careful.
"I think he's afraid," Elena said quietly.
Camille raised an eyebrow. "Lucien Blake? Afraid?"
"Not of me," Elena said. "Of hurting me again."
That night, Lucien stood alone on the balcony of their bedroom, staring out at the city skyline. Elena joined him quietly, her silk robe whispering as she moved.
He didn't look at her, but he said, "You were incredible today."
"Thank you," she said. "You were too."
They stood in silence for a long moment, the air between them humming with unspoken words.
Then Lucien asked, "Are you happy here?"
Elena blinked. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because I built this house like a fortress," he said. "To keep people out. To keep control. But sometimes I wonder if I built a cage instead."
Elena stepped closer, until their shoulders touched. "A fortress can become a home. If the door is open."
He turned to her. "And is yours still open?"
She didn't look away. "It was never shut. Not really."
Lucien reached for her hand. His touch was warm, steady. "Then let's start again. No more distance. No more walls."
She leaned into him, her forehead resting against his chest. "Okay."
Over the next week, Project Horizon took shape. Elena led the audit team with surprising grace, earning the reluctant admiration of even the most skeptical board members. With Camille's assistance, she also helped rework the internal vetting system to prevent another Vincent from rising again.
But beneath the triumph, Elena couldn't shake a strange unease.
It started with a package.
A plain manila envelope delivered to her desk with no return address. Inside: photographs. Grainy. Blurry. But unmistakably her.
Walking to the estate.
Having lunch with Lucien.
Shopping with Camille.
Someone had been following her.
She rushed to Camille's office.
"Is this a threat?" Elena asked, slapping the photos down.
Camille's eyes narrowed. She scanned the images, then reached for her phone. "I'll have the security feeds pulled right now. This wasn't random."
"Do you think it's Vincent's people?"
"I don't know," Camille muttered. "But if someone's watching you this closely, they're either trying to scare you… or get something on you."
Elena shivered.
Camille stood, all humor gone from her face. "I'll double the guards. And you don't go anywhere alone—understood?"
Elena nodded, but a pit had settled in her stomach.
Just when I thought it was over…
That night, Elena waited until Lucien came home before showing him the photos.
His face darkened. "These were taken near our private access points."
"I thought we were safe," she whispered.
"We are," he said. "But someone wants us to think otherwise."
He called Darius immediately, voice tight with fury. "Trace the source. And find out if anyone sold our internal schedules."
Elena placed a hand on his arm. "Lucien. This… whoever they are, they're watching me. Not you."
Lucien turned to her, and something flickered in his eyes. Fear. Not for himself—but for her.
"I won't let them touch you," he said hoarsely. "I swear it."
In the weeks that followed, the Blake estate became a fortress in truth. Surveillance teams combed through records. Camille led an investigation into former employees tied to Vincent.
But Elena's unease didn't fade.
Because the last photo in the envelope wasn't of her.
It was of Lucien.
Sleeping.
In their bedroom.
Which meant…
The enemy wasn't outside the gates.
They were already inside.